Nostalgia

First Impressions

"Good morning, Herr Doktor."

I looked up from my laptop as my new client entered the room. She seemed to almost waltz in, her slender body and black hair swaying with each step. She wore a bright, eager smile adorned with nude lipstick on her face as if she was dying to say what's on her mind. Her movements were relaxed and careful as she slowly settled into my office. She situated herself on the chair opposite of me and matched my gaze.

"Good morning! By all means, call me Jules, and your name is?"

She smiled and softly chuckled. "Please, call me Lady Lazarus," she stated as she crossed her legs and folded her arms. Her gaze stayed affixed to mine and she seemed to study my face for a reaction. 

I paused for a moment, pondering on her use of an alias. My quaint knowledge of the late poet Sylvia Plath made me wonder if this "Lady Lazarus" possessed suicidal tendencies and depression like its author. "Is there a reason you chose that particular alias?"

"Do you know of the late Sylvia Plath, Herr Doktor?" she asked with that same, almost devious smile. It almost seemed she had been waiting for me to ask that question her entire life.

"I know of her poems and her late history. With your adoption of her poem as an alias and your frequent usage of "Herr Doktor," I can assume you're a fan?"

"I wouldn't say I'm a fan; more of a friend than a fan. But I am very impressed! Not many people know who she is. What do you think of her work?"

"I think she was a great poet, but I'd like the touch on the fact that you think of yourself as a friend of hers. Are you saying you personally knew Sylvia Plath?" All the signs pointed to delusions of grandeur, perhaps even narcissistic personality disorder. And, by the looks of it, there is no possible way she could have known Plath. This woman seemed to be in her late 20s, and not a wrinkle or grey hair could be seen. 

"Yes, that is exactly what I said. I knew Plath and we were good friends; I was very fond of her. That woman was a genius and had a silver sword for a tongue. Capable of evoking such raw emotion and violence in her work. I adored her, truly. She was really the most gentlest creature, almost always stuck in her own head though. I was so devastated when she..."

Her words trailed off and she stared off through the window behind me. I snapped my fingers and our eyes met once again. I briefly smiled and offered her a box of tissues. Her display of grief seemed genuine. It was almost convincing.

"My apologies. It was a lifetime ago and yet the memories and emotions are still so raw and vivid. I was in the area when she did it, y'know? I had heard that she was having another depressive episode and I wanted to be on stand-by in case she needed me. But of course, Lilibeth caught wind that I was in London and I just... I just lost track of time."

"Is Lilibeth another old friend?" I decided to play her little game and indulge in her delusion. Perhaps I could expose a lapse in her story and get to the source of the problem.

"Yes, yes. Well, not an old friend. I still visit her sometimes for tea and to discuss what's going in our lives. We also like to reminisce about the old times we've had and how much the world has changed since then. I've actually known her since her birth. I was always good friends with her family. You may know her as Elizabeth Regina or Elizabeth Mountbatten. We'd always get into trouble when I was in town; almost like the film Roman Holiday with Audrey! She was always looking for an opportunity to give up the crown for a day and just be herself."

"So you're claiming you know the Queen of England since birth, therefore making you older than her? Not only that but Sylvia Plath as well. And from how casually you brought up Audrey Hepburn by first name, am I to assume you knew her too?"

"Why, yes! Audrey and I were just the absolute best of friends! "

"I'm having trouble believing that you knew all these people. Considering your youthful appearance and the fact that you don't look a day over 25, I'm led to believe that you're concocting all these stories to fulfill some deep-seated desire of importance. Do you desire to feel important?"

"I appreciate the compliment, Jules. I truly do! I am beyond grateful that I look nothing like my age. But to answer your question, no. I do not feel important."

"Hm. Before we continue, do you sometimes hear voices or see things? Particularly, people that aren't there?"

"I can assure you, I do not have paranoid schizophrenia if that's what you're asking. In fact, I am in perfect mental health if I do say so myself. Well, perhaps not perfect; the reason I came in today was that as of recently, I have been catching myself reminiscing and daydreaming about the past. It's really taken somewhat of a toll on my morale and happiness. And I thought, maybe if I found a proper outlet, one that respected my privacy, the memories and the emotions they bring would subside."

Just how far was she willing to go to defend and stay in her delusions? Was this some form of escapism from past trauma?

"Interesting. Now, Lady Lazarus, have you experienced a traumatic event when you were younger? Could this be the reason you've imagined all these stories and relationships? To cope with something from your past?"

"Hmmm... I have experienced all sorts of traumatic, gruesome, gory events. However, it comes with the job and I think I've become somewhat desensitized to it over the years."

"The job? As in your line of work? What exactly do you do for a living?"

"Its not necessarily a job; it doesn't provide any money, but I do it for the sake of others. For the sake of humanity."

A narcissist. This is exactly what I'm dealing with. Someone who believes their existence is vital to civilization and that they're the hero. However, this case seems severe. I have to wonder how much time she has spent spinning these lies. She seems extremely adept at lying, not skipping a beat in her story. Perhaps I could trap her in a lie and show her that none of this is real; then I'd be able to get to the actual source of her trauma. 

"Okay. I think we'll tackle that another day. We're out of time for today and I hope you return to tell me more."

"Oui, madame! I will be certain to visit you once again. Hopefully, I can go more in-depth; I feel better already. Au revoir, doctor!"

Before I could even respond, she had waltzed out just as she came in, a blur. 

What a peculiar woman.